Fix
by mystiri1
Summary: One-shot. Cid likes to tinker with things, figure out how they work. But people aren't so easy. Cid/Vincent, yaoi. Post-DoC.


**A/N:** This is one of those stories where I started out with a plan. Then I started writing. Three paragraphs in, it has taken a sideways turn, and I think, 'Why the hell do I try and plan anything, when it never does what I want anyway?' Written for Kinkfest, with the prompt, Cid/Vincent, competency kink, greasy hands on white skin.

_**Warnings:** This story contains male/male sexual interaction. And Cid. I also have a hard time believing Shera married him, so you might want to consider this AU. _

* * *

Cid had been working for several hours, his full attention focused on the delicate task of repairing the engines. It didn't help, of course, that the _Shera_ had engines like nothing anyone had ever seen before, and it was as much an act of intuition and guesswork as it was knowledge and skill.

Not unlike dealing with the woman herself, and he'd never been too good at that.

His lips quirked as he remembered that day, when the WRO had discovered the airship in some odd ruins on the Northern Continent, followed by the even more amazing discovery she still worked. Reeve had called Cid in to look at it, and he'd bought Shera along.

They'd been drinking around the campfire later that evening, and it had been Shera who asked, "So what are you going to call it?"

"It already has a name." Cid had scowled at the writing along the side of the ship in a language they couldn't read. It looked like some of the marks he'd seen back in the City of the Ancients, but he'd never imagined that the Cetra, with their odd seashell houses, would have airships.

"Yes, but I can't read it, and I don't think anyone else here can, either," Shera pointed out.

Cid had squinted at the huge bulk, then grinned, "I think I'll call her _Shera_."

He had the pleasure of seeing the woman speechless for once in her life. She even blushed. "Why, Cid, that's just… Thank you. I don't know what to say."

Cid shrugged. "It fits. I looked that ship over from top to toe, and you know what I concluded?"

"What?" Shera asked, looking a little misty-eyed.

"She's a fucking mystery to me."

He managed to dodge the beer bottle Shera threw at him, but did fall off the log laughing at her disgruntled expression afterwards.

Of course it wasn't Shera who'd succeeded in distracting him, but his latest housemate. If they ever discovered another airship with impossible workings, he'd be calling it _Valentine_. The gunman was another mystery, and at least he seemed willing to stick around long enough to give Cid a chance at figuring him out.

And Shera, as impossible as always, seemed to think it was funny. When she wasn't calling it '_cute'_.

He closed the engine cover, and looked over to where Vincent sat on a crate, red eyes watching him with an unwavering gaze.

"You just gonna stare at me all day?"

"I was waiting," came the calm reply, "until you were finished. Unlike some people."

Cid grinned, unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth – they helped him think better, even if he couldn't smoke around the engines – and stood. He paused to stretch and work some of the kinks out of his back, because he sure as hell wasn't getting any younger, then moved to stand in front of Vincent. He cupped the man's jaw in one hand, and bent to give him a kiss.

When he lifted his head, it was to see he'd left a dark mark on one pale cheek. He gave an internal wince then wondered how long it would take Vincent to notice. Besides, if the man insisted on watching him at work, what did he expect? "Not my fault you look so sexy cleaning that gun of yours."

Vincent simply raised a brow at Cid's smirk. "Sexy? It's a gun, Cid. I fail to see how maintaining it properly is some kind of indication I would like to be tackled to the floor so you can have your way with me."

"Are you kidding? First I watched you take it apart, and it never ceases to amaze me just how good this is at such delicate tasks." Cid ran his fingers over the golden-clawed gauntlet, lifted it and placed that hand at his waist. "It was a pleasure to watch. Then you took that cloth, and started stroking it along the barrel just like _that_." His tone was deliberately low and suggestive. "Really, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Hn." There was just the slightest flush of colour to Vincent's cheeks now.

Cid went to work on the fastenings of Vincent's cloak. "Anyway, you've been watching me fix those engines for at least two hours now. Any particular reason why?"

A moment's silence, then Vincent admitted, "I like watching you work."

Cid smiled. "Me, too," he breathed against the other man's lips, kissing him as his hands slid inside the now-open black shirt.

He wondered where else he could leave marks from grease-stained fingers.


End file.
